Ghost Seer Read Online Free PDF Page A

storage unit in White Plains, New York, for the parents’ share of the furniture, and his office will handle the transfer on their end.”
    “Has he heard from our parents?” Clare asked softly.
    “No.”
    Dora looked at Clare with owlish eyes. “Jal and Viva are in the wind again. They sent me a present for my birthday, though.”
    She saw the lie of that in Tucker’s eyes. He covered for the parents when Clare wouldn’t.
    “Tucker, if you want the house, it’s yours,” Clare said.
    “I like the house,” Dora said. “But I like our home in Williamsburg better!”
    Tucker eased. “That’s good, baby.”
    Clare said, “We sold it to a nice family, Tuck.”
    His smile curved. “Kids?”
    “Four.”
    “They’ll love this place,” Dora enthused.
    Enzo barked.
Yes, they will! Children always loved Sandra’s and my home!
    Clare turned her head sharply to look at the ghost dog.
    “Clare?” asked Tucker.
    She blinked and rubbed her right ear. “I’m here.”
    His eyes narrowed. “You okay?”
    “Maybe overdoing it a little working on the estate,” she mumbled.
    “Well, that’s mostly done, and I’ll handle the work here.” He squeezed his daughter. “I feel better knowing there’s a family moving in, don’t you, kiddo?”
    Dora nodded. “For sure.”
    Everything’s good! Sandra would like them.
    Clare hadn’t thought that Enzo had even met them, and didn’t want to ask.
    “I love you, Auntie Clare.” Dora puckered and made a loud smooching sound. At least it wasn’t “weird Aunt Clare” . . . yet.
    “I love you, too, Dora, and Tuck.”
    “Love ya, sis.” Tucker winked. “Bye.”
    “Bye.”
    BYE!
Enzo shouted. Dora frowned a little before Tuck closed the program.
    Clare sagged in her seat.
     • • • 
    Enzo barked in the middle of the night; a wave of chill air yanked Clare from sleep. She blinked, and her hand went out toward the dog, fingers turned frigid.
    You must help me!
    The apparition was back.

FOUR

    O NCE AGAIN THE gray and black and white and transparent man stood at the end of her bed.
You’ve got to get it. YOU’VE GOT TO GET IT!
    Panting with cold and fear, Clare huddled against the headboard and drew up the comforter. She should add a blanket . . . in the hottest August on record. Yes, something was wrong. She should be grateful that this illusion didn’t move close to her and try to interact with her the way the dog did.
    He looked a little different, a little rougher. Was he fraying around the edges? What did that mean?
    You must get it. The one I put in a box. Get it first.
His lips twisted as he looked down at himself.
Then we will work to find the one I misplaced.
    Again his stubborn chin lifted and she felt the cold pressure of an intense gaze—or thought she did.
    This is the right time. You are the right person. Things are falling into place. It’s HERE, and finally the time is right and I may be able to go on, if you help me.
She didn’t like the desperate plea in the glittering rounds that might be eyes. Maybe this was a dream.
    She stared hard, trying to catalog every detail of this vision, and she found darker spots in him. Without thought, she said, “What are those?”
    He glanced down again.
Buckshot, a couple of bullets.
    “You died of gunshot wounds?”
    His lips compressed into a line.
No. They were just still in me.
The words continued to come to her mind and she shuddered.
Please.
He stretched out a pale hand.
I did wrong, I admit it. I was a bad and mean drunk, I admit that, too. But I’ve been here more than a century and a half and don’t deserve to stay so long!
His expression changed to despairing.
Away from my beautiful wife. She isn’t with me. I can’t find her. Help me, please.
    Enzo yipped and whined, turning large, pleading eyes on Clare.
    She cracked . . . mind, heart, something. Sloughed off a piece of her that might deal with this insanity . . . just for now. The psychologist could help her put herself